The Muggle's House Elves
by Razzle
Summary: Remember the fairy tale of The Elves and the Shoemaker? Well, where do you think Rowling got her idea for house elves! This is that tale, taking place in the history of the Harry Potter setting. Mostly OC's, with a cameo appearance by Dobby at the end!
1. Brotilda Birchbark

Chapter One: Brotilda Birchbark

"Mildy, go get some hot water and more towels!"

"Right away, Master Birchbark!" Mildy agreed quickly, picking up the trailing ends of the overlarge burlap bag she was wearing and scurrying out of the master bedroom. She tripped nimbly down the stairs and hurried to the kitchen, where a large cauldron was hung over the fire, filled with boiling water. Mildy wasted no time in filling a small bucket with hot water. Then she carried it and a stack of clean, folded towels back up the stairs to the room where Mrs. Birchbark lay in the bed. The 34-year-old witch was moaning and holding her husband's hand as she prepared to give birth to their first child. Mildy had been in the Birchbark's wizarding household for centuries, and she remembered helping attend to the old Mrs. Birchbark at Master Birchbark's own birth. She wondered what it would be like to have a child herself, and smiled briefly, thinking of her own husband. Berkly would be fetching a doctor, and the two of them were expected to apparate back at the Birchbark house any minute now.

"S'all right, Madam," the little house elf said soothingly, hopping up onto the bedside table next to Mrs. Birchbark. The witch smiled weakly back at Mildy. On her other side, Master Birchbark was still clutching his wife's hand. His face looked drawn and pale. "Don't you worry, Master Birchbark," Mildy reassured him cheerfully as well. "You and your mum came through all right as rain, and I reckon it'll be just the same with the Missus."

There was a loud bang, and Berkly apparated into the room right next to Mildy. The doctor apparated at Mrs. Birchbark's side next to them. "Are you all right, Madam?" Berkly asked worriedly, wringing his thin, wiry hands.

"Not to worry," the doctor said briskly, ushering Master Birchbark and Berkly out of the room. "Your wife is healthy and strong. The baby has been growing well. Everything should be just fine." He firmly closed the door on them as Master Birchbark gushed, "Thank you, Doctor Hornwallsby! It's just that this is our first child, and I've been so worried! Take good care of her!"

* * *

At long last, Doctor Hornwallsby gently handed the newly born baby to its mother. "Congratulations," the old wizard said kindly. "You have a beautiful, healthy daughter."

Mrs. Birchbark cooed as she nestled her new daughter into her arms. "Hello there," she murmured, and leaned her head back on the plush pillows, breathing heavily in exhaustion.

As the doctor went to the door to admit the nervous, waiting husbands into the room, Mildy looked down at the new baby. She was almost as big as Mildy herself, but there was a smallness about the child nonetheless. It just looked so helpless and adorable, so needing to be cared for and protected.

"Lovilna, darling!" Master Birchbark cried, rushing to his wife and daughter's bedside. Berkly perched on the footboard of the bed, and eyed his mistress as if to assure himself of her wellbeing. He had joined the Birchbark household with her. Before that, he had told Mildy, he had spent his lifetime working for her family. Lovilna had been the last of the line of Wellingbrooms, so he had come with her when she married.

"Isn't she beautiful, Daven?" Lovilna Birchbark said, smiling radiantly up at her doting husband.

"Yes," Master Birchbark agreed, reaching out to put a hand on his daughter's soft black hair. "What will we call her?"

Lovilna sighed happily and looked down at her sleeping child. "I was thinking of... Brotilda," she suggested.

Master Birchbark nodded, smiling. "Brotilda Birchbark," he agreed. "It's a good name."

Mildy and Berkly quietly excused themselves as Master Birchbark leaned over to gently kiss his wife.

* * *

The years passed quickly, especially for the two house elves, who had seen the raising of many young witches and wizards in their households.

"She's such a sweet child," Berkly commented affectionately while he helped Mildy to hang up the wash on the line to dry. "So like her mother at that age."

Mildy nodded agreeably, and accepted another piece of laundry to pin up on the line. She watched young Brotilda chase a small golden snidget around the yard as they worked. Although Mildy hadn't known Lovilna personally as a child, she could see the resemblance herself. Berkly had also told her many stories of young "Mistress Lovey," and the adventures she'd had with him in the woods near her home.

"That's the last of it," Berkly said, reaching up a hand to help his wife down off the chair she was standing on.

Mildy picked up the empty laundry basket and nodded to Berkly with a smile. "You'd best be off, then. Don't forget your stick - those gnomes have gotten a wee bit rowdy!"

Berkly grinned. "I'll be careful," he agreed, and ran off to help Master Birchbark with the yard work of chasing away the pesky gnomes.

Mildy put the basket on the porch and went inside, where she found the now 45-year old Lovilna Birchbark dancing around the living room with wand pointed at the broom which was busily sweeping the floor. The past eleven years had been kind to her, as humans went, but they had still changed her considerably while Mildy remained very much the same. _It's no wonder they need looking after,_ Mildy thought privately. _Their lives are so short... Barely children when they die of old age._ Mildy shook her head, clearing her mind of such thoughts so she could better concentrate on the day's chores. She hurried into the kitchen and quickly set about preparing a lovely lunch. Mrs. Birchbark had already baked and decorated a beautiful cake for her daughter's eleventh birthday, and Brotilda had a small stack of presents waiting for her on her chair by the table. Everyone wanted to get the chores out of the way in the morning so all three humans and both house elves could take the afternoon off to celebrate. As Mildy stirred the cauldron full of Brotilda's favorite pumpkin-carrot soup, the sound of an owl's screech could be heard outside.

"Mildy!" Mrs. Birchbark called from the living room. "Go and fetch the mail, would you, dear? I must still go and make the beds."

"Of course, Madam," Mildy replied, hopping down from the stool she was on. She went outside and collected the stack of letters from where they'd been dropped on the ground near the porch. As she carried the mail back inside, she was surprised to see that one of the letters was addressed _'To Miss Brotilda Birchbark, The old blue-and-white Cottage in the English countryside 2 and a half miles northeast of London - Care Of Mildy, House Elf'_. "Madam," Mildy called, nearly dropping all the letters in surprise, "Mistress Brotilda has got a letter!"

"What's that?" Lovilna asked, leaning over the banister at the top of the stairs to look down at Mildy. Her golden-brown hair hung over her shoulders to either side of her face as the middle-aged witch peered down at the little house elf. "She's got what?"

"A letter," Mildy repeated, holding up the small envelope for her mistress to see.

"Strange," Mrs. Birchbark remarked, coming quickly down the stairs. "Oh, well. Why don't you call the rest of the family in for lunch, Mildy dear, and we'll all find out about it then."

Mildy nodded and handed over the letters before heading outside to round up Berkly, Master Birchbark, and Brotilda.

By the time they all returned, Mrs. Birchbark had set both tables - a human-sized kitchen table and chairs had three place settings for the humans, and a smaller table next to the cooking fire such as a young human girl would use for playing tea-party with two place settings for the house elves and a pair of small stools for them to sit on. Mildy ladled out the soup, and as the family all sat down to eat, Mrs. Birchbark handed Brotilda the letter she'd received.

"Happy birthday, dear. You seem to have a letter. Were you expecting someone to write to you? Have you made some new friends?" Mrs. Birchbark asked with cheerful curiosity.

Brotilda shared a look of surprise with her father, then turned back to her mother. "No, Mum. I mean, I have friends, but I haven't been expecting a letter."

"Perhaps it's a birthday greeting," Master Birchbark offered. "Well, go on then. What does it say? Who's it from?"

Brotilda turned the envelope over in her hands. It had a small wax seal she didn't recognize, with what looked like four small animals pressed into the red wax. She opened the envelope and took out the letter. Clearing her throat, Brotilda read aloud, "Dear Miss Brotilda Birchbark, We are pleased to invite you to attend Hogwarts, our new school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. This boarding school is for witches and wizards aged eleven through seventeen to learn their craft through seven years of study, beginning of course at age eleven. We believe you would be a great asset to Hogwarts in its first year as one of our very first students. If you decide to accept, a list of school supplies and books you will need will be sent to you by owl. Sincerely Yours, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin." Brotilda looked up at her parents excitedly. "A school for witches and wizards! Mum, Dad? Can I go?"

Master and Mrs. Birchbark exchanged a look.

"I was so looking forward to teaching her ourselves," Mrs. Birchbark said. "But this is a wonderful opportunity, isn't it?"

Master Birchbark nodded. "Indeed. Besides, we can still teach her what we know during the summer months. Perhaps she'll even bring home spells _we_ don't know, and _she_ can teach them to _us!_ I think we should let the child go."

Mrs. Birchbark nodded her agreement, and Brotilda jumped up with a squeal of delight to hug her parents. "Thanks, Mum! Thanks, Dad!" The little girl was so excited that she could scarcely eat her lunch. She was also delighted with her presents - a book of spells from her mother, that _her_ mother had written herself when she was Brotilda's age, and a little straw doll witch on a broom from her father, for practicing her levitation charm, as well as a few other magical toys and gadgets that she loved.

Mildy and Berkly grinned at each other. This was among the best birthdays they'd ever celebrated with their human families.


	2. A Boarding School for Witches & Wizards

Chapter Two: A Boarding School for Witches and Wizards

It was a quiet winter that year, after they sent Brotilda off to school at Hogwarts. Berkly missed having the energetic girl around, but being the stoic and long-lived house elf he was, he was patient enough to wait for her to return. The days and weeks seemed to stretch on together, but then all of a sudden Christmas came along, and with it school holiday.

"Mum! Dad!" Brotilda yelled, running to meet her eager parents at the London train station. "I've missed you! Oh, hi, Berkly! Where's Mildy?"

"She's at home," Berkly explained. "She wanted to work extra hard on your supper for tonight."

"Oh, that's so very thoughtful of her," Brotilda said gratefully. "Let's hurry home!"

* * *

Over supper that evening, Brotilda talked almost nonstop about her experiences at Hogwarts. "You just wouldn't believe it. There must be at least a few hundred other students there! They gave us blank spellbooks, and we've been just filling them with the spells we're learning... And all about herb lore and potion-making too! I've made friends with a few other girls there, and we've been teaching each other spells from our own family books." She paused, then looked at her mother. "I hope you don't mind?"

Lovilna smiled and shook her head. "Not at all, dear. I think this whole thing is marvelous. Why, by the time you're my age, you'll probably know at least six spells for each one I know now!"

Brotilda grinned. "Thanks, Mum. Anyway, they've got four Houses that the students are sorted into, each with a different name. Mine's called Hufflepuff."

Master Birchbark nodded approvingly. "That sounds like a very fine, respectable House."

Brotilda nodded eagerly. "Yes! It is. Miss Helga Hufflepuff is at the head of that House. She's a very respectable, hardworking person and she expects the same from all the students in her House."

"Well," Mrs. Birchbark said, "I've always said a little hard work now spares a lot of trouble later. As long as you try and really put your effort in, things will generally turn out all right."

It was true enough. In all the time Berkly and Mildy had spent with the family, the chores had been shared around equally - wizard, witch, and house elf alike - and that left leisure time for everyone, besides the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing to a job well done.

"Quite," Brotilda agreed, hurrying back to the subject of school she was on. "They've even found ways of improving how to cast certain spells. For example, the levitation charm. Did you know it works ever so much better if you wave your wand with a little swish and flick?" She demonstrated with her fork as she chattered. "I tried just pointing with my wand and the doll flew into the wall, but when the professor showed our class how to do the swish and flick-" another fork-waving demonstration, "-I was able to get it to fly round the room three times, then land on the table!"

"That's marvelous, dear!" Master Birchbark beamed, obviously thrilled that his birthday present to his daughter was getting some use as well as the one from her mother.

"Some of the students didn't know how to cast the levitation charm," Brotilda went on. "But there are so many spells I've never done before, and a lot of those I haven't even heard of before this year, that several other students are already good at performing. It's really exciting!"

Mildy and Berkly had hardly said a word during supper. They were having too much fun listening to Brotilda go on and on about Hogwarts. The experiences she described were a bit hard to imagine sometimes.

"The great hall where we take our meals is bigger than our entire house and yard put together!" Brotilda was saying. "It's an enormous castle, all solid gray stones. There's even a tower all its own just for the owls to come and go with letters! There's a huge lake, and there's even been talk of planting a whomping willow sapling on the grounds."

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Birchbark exclaimed. "Those trees can be quite testy if you get too close to them."

Brotilda nodded. "I know, Mum, but at Hogwarts they teach us first and foremost to be careful and not mess with something when we don't know what it is or how to deal with it. Any student with common sense would know enough to give a tree like that its space."

Master Birchbark laughed. "Yes, honestly. Can you just imagine, a few Hogwarts students actually _trying_ to get right up to the tree? Whatever for? Or perhaps," he went on, chuckling, "They might be flying around and crash straight into it! Next we'll hear there's a Basilisk in the basement."

Mrs Birchbark giggled. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Daven. I just can't help being protective - I am a mother, after all."

Daven Birchbark smiled warmly, and took his wife's hand in his own. "I know, my dear. That's just one of the reasons I love you."

Berkly and Mildy glanced at each other over their meatloaf and boiled potatoes, and they shared a warm, loving look between them as well. It felt wonderful to have the family together again, all sitting around a meal and sharing it.

* * *

As the years went on, Brotilda had more and more exciting news and information to bring home and share. By her fourth year, she was casting spells about as well as her own parents. She quickly assured them, however, that most of the rest of the students had gotten to that point in their third or fourth year, and the rest weren't far behind.

"It's just that we have so much time to do nothing but learn magic," the fourteen-year-old explained. "And so many different people who each know just a little bit about something to make a spell or a potion just that bit better. We trade knowledge all the time. It's wonderful!"

* * *

The next year, however, Brotilda was uncharacteristically quiet when she came home for the summer. Finally, her parents asked her if she was having trouble with school.

"One of the Houses - Slytherin House, and their House Head Salazar Slytherin - is starting to act cold to the rest of us. I asked one girl from Slytherin that I'd seen around why they were treating us that way and she said, 'We're not being cruel. We just don't have patience with muggle-borns, half-bloods, and those that consort with them,' and then she looked right down her nose at me and said, 'You've an uncle who's a muggle, don't you?' with this terrible air, and then she just turned and stamped proudly away! I've barely spoken to her since."

No one was terribly happy to hear that.

"It's the same old rot!" Master Birchbark exploded angrily. "You get it occasionally from wizards who don't think they're good enough unless they're better than everybody else. Never you mind, Brotilda. Just you be friends with anyone who's willing, and let the ones with their noses stuck in the air get a draft up their nostrils!"

"Daven!" Lovilna scolded, shocked. She clucked her tongue and gave her husband a disapproving glance for his outburst, then sighed and turned to her daughter. "He's right, though. You can't make people be your friends, but that doesn't make it your fault if they won't be. It's their decision. Just as long as you stay open to being friends, and they know this, that's all you can do."

Brotilda smiled. "Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mum. That really helps a lot."

* * *

After two more years at Hogwarts, Brotilda finally came home for good. It was hard for Berkly to believe that the now seventeen-year-old young woman, with long jet-black hair and an air of confidence and competence, was the same little girl the family had sent off to school seven years before. She quickly set about teaching her parents the skills she'd learned, though she was never prideful about knowing more about magic than them. Berkly was impressed with how good she'd become. _If all wizards and witches knew this much magic,_ he thought, _we House Elves might not have to worry so often about our families. Of course, they still need us... But we could catch a breath now and then without panicking that something dreadful would happen!_

"They grow up so fast, don't they?" Berkly said quietly aside to Mildy as they watched the Birchbarks practicing spells in the yard.

"Yes, they really do!" Mildy agreed with a wistful sigh. "When do you suppose Mistress Brotilda will find herself a husband to settle down and have children with?"

Berkly grinned. "It was less than twenty years ago that I went through that kind of worry, and you're ready to bring in another baby!" he teased, though he rather liked the idea himself.

"Oh, well. It doesn't matter. She can take her time," Mildy allowed generously. "I'm not planning on going anywhere else soon! Whenever she's ready to be a mother, we'll be here and ready to help out."

Berkly nodded and wrapped his arms around Mildy. He sighed. "Do you suppose we'll ever have one, Mildy?"

"I don't rightly know," Mildy admitted. "Perhaps, some day... It would be so lovely, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," Berkly agreed. "But just being here with you is lovely, too. I'm so glad the Master and Missus got married so we could meet each other!"

Mildy nodded. "I've never been unhappy, but now I just can't imagine what I'd do without you," she said softly. "It seems almost like we've always been together."

As his wife leaned her head back on his shoulder, Berkly rested his own head on top of Mildy's. They stayed like that for quite some time as they watched the Birchbarks continue their magic practice. It was a lovely spring day, and everyone stayed outdoors until the sun went down, glowing over the horizon and turning the sky bright pink-orange behind the pine trees.


	3. Next of Kin

Chapter Three: Next of Kin

"Mildy?" Brotilda Birchbark called shakily from the top of the stairs. At the age of eighty-three, she was much more frail than she had been as a young woman, but her spirit still burned as brightly.

"Right here, Madam," Mildy called, hurrying up the stairs to her side.

Brotilda smiled down at the little house elf, leaning heavily on her knobbly cane. "Oh, dear sweet Mildy! How many times do I have to tell you: you don't have to come running every time I call you! I'm honestly not going to shatter into a million tiny pieces of glass."

"Nevermind that," Mildy said, brushing past her old mistress's protest. The little house elf was not about to start shouting to and fro through the house just to spare herself a bit of walking. "What do you need?"

Brotilda smiled, not pressing the friendly argument they'd been having for the past two decades or so. "Nothing dire," she teased. "I was just about to ask you to put on the kettle for tea."

"Already done," Mildy said with a grin that belied her worry. _I did it when you asked me to five minutes ago..._

"Thank you, dear," Brotilda said kindly. "Then why don't you and Berkly take the rest of the afternoon off today? I can take care of myself for a few hours. The two of you deserve to have some fun once in a while."

Mildy nodded, unable to think of a suitable protest against the idea. She had been worried about her mistress's fading health for months, but didn't see a reason to alarm Brotilda when there was nothing to be done about her advancing years and the toll it was taking on her. "We'll see you at supper, then," she agreed.

* * *

That night, Brotilda Birchbark passed away quietly in her sleep. Mildy and Berkly held a funeral for her in the backyard, and spent the entire day mourning.

"What will we do now?" Mildy sobbed, leaning against her husband for comfort. He just held her in his arms as she continued, "Our poor old Mistress is dead, and she was the last of the Birchbarks. We have no one left to look after."

"We'll have to look after the house, for now," Berkly reasoned. "Perhaps some relatives will show up and claim it, or someone will buy it eventually."

Smiling bravely, Mildy sniffled and nodded through her tears. "Right. We want the house in proper shape when they move in.. whoever they are. But it still feels strange, the idea of not serving the Birchbark family line any more."

"Come on, Love," Berkly said gently. "Let's go in." He took his wife by the hand and led her back inside the house they now occupied by themselves.

* * *

The house stood empty for nearly a century. One day, however, while Mildy and Berkly were sorting through some boxes of old things in the attic, they heard the front door open. Voices spilled into the house, along with footsteps, as a rather stuffy man led a young couple and their young son into the living room.

"Well, here it is," he said in a self-important, booming voice. "All your papers are in order, Master Dobbins. I'm satisfied that you're the great-nephew of Miss Birchbark, which makes you her next of kin."

"Quite so," the young man, Master Dobbins, replied cheerfully. "Can't tell you how much we appreciate this. We were terribly surprised to find that a relative had left property to us."

Mildy and Berkly stared at each other, frozen, as they listened to this. "Did you hear that?" Mildy asked in an excited whisper. "Relatives of Mistress Brotilda!"

Berkly nodded. "I wonder what sort they are, this lot?" he wondered. "We want to be careful. I'll go see what they're about for a day or two before we introduce ourselves."

"It's as if you don't trust them," Mildy said bluntly.

"To tell the truth, I don't strictly," Berkly admitted. "We know nothing of these people. No, I want to know who it is we're working for now before we introduce ourselves."

After a brief moment, Mildy reluctantly nodded her consent, and Berkly hurried quietly down the stairs. He made sure to keep well hidden.

"Well, I'd best be off," the stuffy man was saying. Berkly watched from behind the bannister as Master Dobbins showed the man to the door.

"Again, thank you ever so much," Master Dobbins said politely.

"Don't mention it," the stuffy man said, and was on his way.

As soon as her husband had closed the door, the young woman threw her arms out to the side and twirled in a circle with a delighted laugh. "It's like a dream, John," she said. "Our own home, and we thought you'd work ten years before we could even hope to afford one!"

John Dobbins reached down to pat his small son on the head, and he smiled at his wife. "Indeed it is, Holly," he agreed. "Indeed it is. Run along now, Thomas, your mother and I have work to do to settle in. Why don't you go and play in the yard."

"All right, father," the little boy - no older than five or six - said cheerfully. He ran hollering as only little human boys can through to the kitchen and out the back door. Berkly could hear his youthful voice shouting and laughing in the yard as his parents talked inside. He felt a warm glow of happiness at the prospect of a child around the house again. _Mildy will be happy too,_ he thought. _She's always said how much she loves children._

"It is a queer sort of place, though, isn't it?" Holly said slowly, taking in her surroundings. "All these books and trinkets... and a cauldron over the kitchen fire, rather than a proper cookstove?"

John shrugged. "It is a bit old fashioned," he agreed. "But remember, this house was built a long time ago, and it hasn't been lived in for almost a hundred years. It's bound to be a bit out of date."

"That's just it," Holly went on. "The house has been empty for years, and yet it looks... lived in... As if someone just took tea here earlier today. There's no dust on anything! The whole house looks spotless..."

Berkly couldn't help but bask just a little in the compliment that Holly had unknowingly paid to himself and Mildy.

As his wife looked around the living room with a shrewd, critical eye, John laughed. "One minute it's out of date with the cauldron, and the very next you worry about where the dust is hiding!" He walked over to his wife, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead. "You worry too much, my dear. I expect a housekeeper or a neighbor has been by within the last day or two, freshening up the house for our arrival. Very thoughtful of them, I say."

Holly smiled and hugged John. "Oh, you're right, darling. It just all seems too good to be true. I keep expecting something to turn up not quite right. I'm being silly though, aren't I?"

"It doesn't matter," John said, tactfully not answering the question. "I'm having a little trouble believing it myself. What luck!"

"Mummy! Daddy!" the little boy raced back into the house from the back yard. "You won't believe it, you just _won't_ believe it! There are little sprites in the yard!"

Berkly suppressed a groan. He hadn't chased the gnomes away yet that day, though he usually did it first thing in the morning. For whatever reason, it had slipped his mind this time.

"Now, Thomas," Holly told her son sternly. "What did I tell you about making up stories?"

Thomas looked defiant and stamped his foot. "I am _not_ telling stories!" he insisted. "See for yourself!"

"Oh, let the boy have his fun," John said tolerantly. "All right, Thomas, you show your mother and I these little sprites." John slipped one arm around Holly's waist, and the young couple slowly followed their eager son outside. Still keeping himself hidden, Berkly followed.

"Oh, my!" Holly gasped, staring around at the gnomes running all amok in the yard. "John...?"

"I've never seen anything like them before," John responded quietly to her, as Thomas ran around the yard chasing some of the gnomes and being chased by others. The creatures were friendly enough, but Berkly knew all too well that left on their own they'd soon become bored. Berkly also knew that when gnomes became bored, they generally became destructive. That didn't usually go over very well with gardeners, since gnomes regularly vandalized gardens when they got the chance. Berkly decided that he'd have to spend that evening ridding the area of the pests.

"Would you just look at them?" Holly breathed, her eyes alight with joy and wonder. "They're simply adorable. Do you suppose this house is built near some magic woods or a magic meadow? Where could they have come from?"

The family stayed outside for several more minutes before they reluctantly decided to go in for supper. Berkly quickly darted back to the stairs, and hurried back up to the attic. He paused just below the attic door, thinking about what he'd seen. _Why wouldn't they know a yard full of gnomes when they see it,_ he wondered. _Unless..._ There was really only one explanation, and it made Berkly worried. He absently plucked at the tattered cloth sack he wore as he considered the situation. He and Mildy were still the house elves of this house, and it was still their duty to look after and serve the family who owned it. Besides, these Dobbinses seemed like a nice enough sort, if naive.

The sounds of dinnerware clinking downstairs in the kitchen reached his ears, another familiar sound that Berkly had not heard in far too long. Like the bright voice of a child, he found that he'd missed that, too. But could he and Mildy afford to show themselves to this family?

Finally, Berkly realised he couldn't put it off any more, and entered the attic. Mildy looked up and smiled as he came in, and put aside the box she had been going through while she waited for him.

Berkly walked over and sat down heavily next to his wife. For a short while, he merely stared pensively at the floor without speaking.

"Well?" Mildy asked expectantly after a few moments had gone by in silence. "What sort of folk are they?"

His face pale, Berkly looked into his wife's eyes. "Muggles," he said solemnly.


	4. The Shoemaker and His Wife

Chapter Four: The Shoemaker and His Wife

Mildy and Berkly kept themselves hidden from the Dobbins family. They didn't dare reveal themselves to Muggles, but they both kept at doing little things around the house to earn their keep. They did invisible chores that might go unnoticed by Muggles, such as keeping the yard gnome-free and fixing the anti-squeaking charm on the staircase when it became worn-down now and then. Holly, particularly, had a tendency to misplace small items, so the house elves kept a sharp eye out for such things and placed them discreetly where they would be sure to be found again soon.

Eventually, Thomas grew up and married a pretty country girl named Joy. Holly and John lived long enough to see their three grandchildren born and grow up a little, but eventually they passed away. Thomas and Joy's eldest child, Mary, became quite taken with a young man and moved away to London with him to be his wife. Timothy, the youngest, left when he was a young man to seek his fortune as a sailor. This left Harold, the middle child, to eventually inherit the house from their parents. He eventually took a wife himself, and they started a cobbler's shop in their home. Many years later, Harold's grandson, Michael, still followed the family trade as a shoemaker. Michael Dobbins and his wife were getting quite old, in their seventies, and arthritis in his hands slowed Michael's work speed. Slowly but surely they began to lose money until Michael came home from London one day with a drawn expression on his face. Mildy peered through the railing at the top of the stairs into the living room below, listening to the couple's worried conversation.

"Let me get your coat, dear," Michael's wife creaked, tenderly caring for him though she was old and frail herself. She gently pulled the coat off his back and hung it up by the door.

"Marie," Michael said heavily, sinking down onto the old wooden stool by his workbench. As his wife came to stand beside him, he set the package he'd been carrying down in front of him and unwrapped it. "See, I was only able to buy enough leather to make one pair of shoes. I wasn't even able to buy our supper for tonight."

"What will we do?" Marie asked, putting her gnarled hands on her husband's shoulders. "How can you make enough money with that one pair of shoes for us to live on?"

"I don't know, my dear Marie," Michael said sadly. "You go on to bed. I know you must be tired, and I've got at least half a night's work ahead of me if I'm to finish these shoes by tomorrow morning."

Marie sighed but didn't protest. While her tired husband set to work, she slowly crept up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister as she went, and made her way into the bedroom. Mildy, meanwhile, crept up the stairs to the attic to speak to Berkly.

"I'm not about to let them starve," Mildy said stubbornly. "They may not know we're here, but we've been living in their home longer than they have."

"Quite right," Berkly agreed. "We'll have to help them. They've always been a very nice couple of people, even if they are Muggles. Let's go and hide downstairs, and when Michael goes to bed, we'll see what we can do."

* * *

The two little house elves peered cautiously around the kitchen door and watched Michael as he worked diligently on the leather, carefully crafting it into a fine - if plain - pair of shoes. It took him close to an hour just to measure and cut the leather into the proper pieces, and by then he was clearly too exhausted to continue.

Thinking he was unseen, Michael Dobbins leaned over his workbench and began quietly weeping. "It's no use," he sighed, standing up with effort from his little stool. "I'll finish the shoes in the morning," he told himself without much enthusiasm, and slowly heaved his way upstairs to join his wife.

When the upstairs bedroom door finally creaked sadly shut, Berkly and Mildy hurried out to Mr. Dobbin's workbench. Picking up one of the pieces of leather, Mildy clucked over it and shook her head. "We've got our work cut out for us," she said, then paused and giggled at the accidental pun. "Really, 'cut out' for us," she repeated with a grin, holding up the carefully cut leather.

Berkly chuckled and shook his head at that. "Right, then. Let's get to work."

The two elves, without another word, bent over the pieces of the shoes and began crafting them together into the finest pair of shoes they could manage - with the help of a good old standby house elf charm or two. They worked quickly, their hands flying over the leather as they sewed the pieces together. When they finally finished, the first glow of sunrise was filtering through the living room windows. Mildy wiped her arm across her brow, and laid out the pair of gleaming shoes on the workspace just where the pieces of leather had been hours before. Meanwhile, Berkly swiftly tidied up the cobbler's tools. With a quick glance around and a satisfied nod to Mildy, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs after him to the attic. They slept that entire day.

* * *

The next evening, Mildy and Berkly hid in the kitchen again to spy on the Dobbinses.

"That pair of shoes I sold today, that were magically finished this morning for me," Mr. Dobbins was happily telling his wife as he unwrapped a bigger package at his workbench than he had had the night before, "brought us enough money for me to buy enough leather for _two_ pairs of shoes, and a loaf of bread for our supper tonight!"

"Wonderful!" Marie exclaimed. "But who could have finished that pair of shoes for us, and why?" She tore the bread he handed to her in half and gave him back one of the two pieces. They ate quickly, right at the workbench, not having eaten since breakfast the previous day.

"I have no idea," Michael admitted. "But I'd better get to work on these shoes, or we'll be right back to the same problem by tomorrow night. You go on up to bed, dear. No need for you to wait up for me."

While his wife went to bed, Michael Dobbins leaned over his workbench and set to work for the night. He carefully cut out all the pieces for the two pairs of shoes, which took him quite a while by itself - almost until midnight. Blinking in exhaustion, he reached aside to set down the tools he'd been working with. Finally his exhaustion and a full stomach caught up to him, and he fell asleep with his head on the workbench, one arm stretched out in front of him from setting down his tools. The cut pieces of shoe leather were laid out on the table next to him. Despite the uncomfortable position, he was soon snoring.

Berkly and Mildy exchanged a nod, then hurried out to the workbench on tiptoe. Using hand gestures and working silently, they each snatched up the pieces of a pair of shoes and set quickly to work. They had less time than the night before, but they were getting the hang of making shoes. By morning, they had completed the two pairs of shoes, and they were even lovelier than the pair they had worked on together the previous night.

Mildy gave in to the urge to reach out and gently pat Michael on the head. 'Poor dears,' she mouthed silently to Berkly, who nodded. As the sun began to rise outside, they ran up the stairs to the attic hand in hand before Mr. Dobbins woke up. As they closed the attic door behind them, they were thrilled to hear his surprised shout of joy from downstairs: "Marie! Marie, come quickly! Come and see!"

* * *

That night, Michael turned to his wife as he unwrapped the package of leather. "Look, now we have enough to make _four_ pairs of shoes! But who could be doing this wonderful thing for us?"

"I don't know," Marie said, smiling. Then, her smile broadening, she leaned over to kiss her husband on the cheek and whispered something in his ear that made him smile as well.

"You're right, Marie. Let's just leave these pieces out again tonight. Perhaps whatever kind spirits are doing us a favor will return again tonight."

That night, Marie helped her husband to cut out the leather. Late that evening when they had laid out the pieces on the workbench, Michael put his arm around Marie's waist and together they hobbled up the stairs, went into their bedroom and blew out the candle.

Mildy and Berkly shared a smile. "It feels wonderful to be wanted for something after all these years, instead of just working in total secret for our family," Berkly whispered.

Mildy eagerly nodded her agreement, and they came out from their hiding spot to begin work on the shoes. As they concentrated on their work that night, neither of them noticed Michael and Marie spying on them from the stairs above. By morning, they had outdone themselves once again. Mildy had completed two very beautiful pairs of lady's shoes, and Berkly had made two equally handsome pairs of shoes for gentlemen to wear. As they laid out the shoes for their Muggle masters to find, they didn't see the Dobbinses quietly sneak back to bed.

Tired but happy, Berkly and Mildy headed up to the attic to sleep themselves.

* * *

They worked like that through the rest of the fall and into the winter, completing the shoes that were left for them at night and sleeping during the day. When they went downstairs to work on the night of Christmas Eve, however, a surprise awaited them.

Instead of pieces of leather for shoes, or any work to do at all, there were two of the most beautiful outfits of clothing either house elf had seen in their very long lives, along with two very fine pairs of shoes - one for a gentleman and one for a lady. Best of all, everything was just exactly the right size for them.

Picking up the lovely dress, and holding it up against herself over the burlap sack, Mildy looked at Berkly with tears in her eyes. "How did they know?" she whispered. "Bless them, how did they ever know?"

"I don't know," Berkly said in a voice choked with emotion. "But now that we have clothing, we can go wherever we want! Hurry now, Love, let's try these things on!"

They wasted no time changing into the marvelous clothing, completely unaware that Mr. Dobbins and his wife were spying on them from the stairs above, smiling radiantly at the reaction to their gifts for the little elves.

Berkly and Mildy stared at each other for a few moments in their lovely new outfits. Then, smiling, Mildy took Berkly's hand. "I have another Christmas present for you," she said softly. She slowly moved her husband's hand to rest on her belly. "We're going to have a baby!"

Berkly's eyes lit up in amazement. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had, dear!" he exclaimed, hugging his wife who was now sobbing with joy. Then, hand in hand, they sang and danced as they ran outside together into the snow. They ran off together into the woods, still celebrating their newfound freedom, as the Dobbinses watched them and waved, unseen by the house elves, from the front door of the house.

* * *

"What will we call him?" Berkly asked, looking down at his brand new, wonderful son.

"I've been thinking," Mildy said, cradling their son in her arms and smiling up at her husband. "Michael and Marie Dobbins were so kind to us, giving us such beautiful clothing and all. I know he'll have to find himself a wizarding family to work for eventually, but... I think a very good name for our son would be Dobby."

"Dobby," Berkly agreed with a nod. "It's a very good name."

The baby house elf, Dobby, slept peacefully in his mother's arms while his father stood protectively and lovingly over them both.


End file.
